Monday, June 20, 2022

Crown Court Killer Tour and Giveaway

 


Crown Court Killer

London Podcast Mystery Series Book 3

by Dahlia Donovan

Genre: Cozy Mystery, M/M Romance

Months after saving their flamboyant theatre friend from disaster, Dannel Ortea and Osian Garey are back with a thrilling murder investigation in the third London Podcast Mystery series novel.

Dannel and Osian's breakfast double date rapidly devolves into a murder mystery when a dead body is found in their solicitor friend’s car. Wayne is taken for questioning by police. He was last seen arguing with the deceased.

When Wayne’s tie is identified as the murder weapon, it’s hard to refute the growing evidence stacked against him.

Convinced of their friend’s innocence, Dannel and Osian throw themselves into the investigation. When Wayne’s boyfriend, Roland, finds himself suspended from the police, they realise powerful people are involved in the murder.

With a philandering crown court judge, two disgruntled wives, and an angry client as suspects, the clock is ticking for them to find the killer before Wayne winds up arrested—or dead.


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Chapter One

Osian

“A massive thanks to our special guest—solicitor extraordinaire Wayne Dankworth, whose insights into criminal litigation have been fascinating. As always, I’m Osian Garey. My partner in crime is Dannel Ortea.” Osian winked at his husband-to-be, who simply rolled his eyes. “Hope you’ve enjoyed this week’s episode of our London Crime Podcast. Don’t forget to tune in next time. This has been Oz and D. Signing out.”

Dannel waited until Osian hit pause to let out a loud groan. “And you’d done so brilliantly right until the end.”

When Osian looked at Dannel, he was always reminded of Richard Ayoade, if the actor were taller, buffer, and a retired firefighter. Whereas Osian felt like a washed-up version of the actor who’d played Constantine on the telly, less buff, shorter, and scruffier.

“Nothing wrong with Oz and D,” Osian insisted. They had this debate at least once every podcast. He got up to stretch, having sat for several hours getting their recording together. “I’m knackered.”

“Are you still not sleeping well?” Wayne paused in sifting through the papers he’d brought to glance at Osian in concern.

“Nightmares aren’t conducive to a good night’s rest.” Osian believed healing started with being open with his friends and family. “My therapist thinks being trapped in the well aggravated my post-traumatic stress.”

A former paramedic, Osian had resigned after losing a patient through no fault of his own. He’d spent over a year trying to unpack the trauma left behind. His recovery had taken a hit three months ago.

While trying to solve a murder, Osian had come face-to-face with the killer. He’d been forced into an old well along with their elderly neighbour, Ian Barrett. Rescue had eventually arrived.

His nightmares had begun not long after. Dannel often sat up with him, and they’d play video games or listen to a cast album of whatever musical had grabbed their attention until he was too exhausted to remain awake.

Thanks to the lack of sleep, Osian felt a hundred years old and not thirty. His therapist did help. It would simply take time.

He fully intended to avoid old wells in the future.

And killers.

And fake ghosts haunting theatres masquerading as killers.

“Are you joining us for coffee and footie in the morning?” Wayne went back to packing up the files. “Chelsea versus Tottenham. Clash of the titans.”

Wayne was shacked up with Dannel’s younger brother, Roland. The latter had moved into the former’s swanky flat. They had a larger telly, so Dannel and Osian occasionally went over to watch their rival Premier League football teams do battle on the pitch.

“Of course.” Osian nodded. Dannel readily agreed as well.

“Bugger.” Wayne checked his phone when it beeped, muttering a few additional curses under his breath. “I’ve got to go.”

“Problem?” Osian followed him to the door, watching him drag on his overcoat.

“Barnaby being Barnaby.” Wayne rushed out the door, shouting a “goodbye” halfway down the stairs.

“Who’s Barnaby?” Osian wondered. He closed the door when it became clear Wayne had already made it out of their building in record time.

“A barrister.” Dannel had begun packing up their microphones. “Rolly mentioned Wayne had quite a dust-up in Crown Court with the man.”

“Did they throw their wigs?” Osian always found the court accoutrements to be entertaining. “Swirl their robes around dramatically?”

“Words were exchanged.” Dannel snorted in amusement at Osian as he waved his hands around. “They were chastised by one of the judges. Not sure Wayne wears a wig. Isn’t that just for barristers?”

“We’ll ask Wayne tomorrow to give us the juicy details.”

“Or we could mind our own business?” 

“In the face of potentially interesting court gossip?”



Ghost Light Killer

London Podcast Mystery Series Book 2


Several months after their first brush with death, Dannel Ortea and Osian Garey are back with a thrilling murder investigation in the second London Podcast Mystery Series novel.

While helping their flamboyant neighbour with his play, Dannel and Osian discover more than a ghost haunting the stage at the Evelyn Lavelle theatre. It's all fun and games until a friend is found kneeling over a dead body.

Is he the murderer or an unfortunate witness?

When one body turns to two, then to three, will the killer ever be found?

As Dannel and Osian work together to solve the mystery, the murderer focuses on them. Their drive to clear their friend’s name puts them centre stage. But not everything under the glow of the bright lights glimmers.

Will anyone be left when the curtain falls?


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Chapter One


Osian


“I’m Oz. He’s D. And we’ll be back for another rundown of murder and mayhem next week. Stay tuned for Osian and Danny’s London Crime Podcast.” He checked his watch, counting down a few seconds before signalling to Dannel to pause the recording. “Another one bites the dust.”

“Oz and D?”

Osian grinned over the top of his laptop at his boyfriend of fourteen years. They’d been best friends practically from infancy and started dating in their teens. “We’re hip with the kids.”

“I am not hip. I have two.” Dannel swivelled in his chair before pushing himself across their living room floor. “And thirty isn’t old age. Besides, how many teenagers are listening to true crime podcasts?”

“Let me have my dream.” Osian followed him down the hall into their bedroom. He stretched out on the bed to watch Dannel prepare for his shift. “Ready to go for twelve hours?”

Dannel glared over his shoulder; his dark brown eyes always seemed to pierce into Osian. “What do you think?”

Truthfully, Osian didn’t know for sure what Dannel thought about being a firefighter. Dannel had followed in his father’s footstep, yet he didn’t quite fit the mould. Osian worried it might come crashing down eventually.

Am I borrowing trouble from the future? Maybe it’ll all work out on its own. Although, when does it ever?

Watching Dannel comb his short black curls trimmed into a high fade before spritzing his hair with argan oil, Osian couldn’t help dragging his fingers through his own untidy brown mane. Though they had much in common, they were polar opposites in other ways. Their differences made their relationship stronger, in Osian’s opinion.

Dannel always made him think of a buffer version of Richard Ayoade. Osian had a striking resemblance to the actor Matt Ryan. He’d even cosplayed as John Constantine and Edward Kenway because of it. 

“Meeting me after shift for an early breakfast?”

“Go on, then.” Osian leaned up on his elbows for a kiss. He smiled when Dannel brushed his lips quickly, then bolted from the room. “Bye.”

Since they’d grown up together, Osian knew the ins and outs of Dannel’s personality probably better than his own family did. They’d been inseparable from the time they could toddle across the hall to each other’s homes. He’d been the first one Dannel told about his autism diagnosis. 

With Dannel gone for his shift, Osian faced the silence in their two-bedroom flat with a sense of dread. He hated the quiet. It allowed his thoughts to stray to things better left forgotten.

Rolling off the bed, he headed into the en suite to stare glumly into his own blue eyes in the mirror. He shook his head. I’m not old enough to feel so bloody tired all the time. His thoughts seemed to drain every ounce of energy out of him.

Tired and drained.

Drained and tired.

Guilt weighed him down, as though the entire Tottenham Hotspur team had climbed on his shoulders. Time heals all wounds is such bollocks. A year hadn’t brought him much relief.



Cosplay Killer

London Podcast Mystery Series Book 1

What happens when an autistic firefighter and his paramedic boyfriend share a thirst for true crime?

Osian Garey and Dannel Ortea live together in a colourful flat in Covent Garden. They run a podcast and throw themselves wholeheartedly into Cosplay, video games, and musical theatre. This year, they’re all fired up to attend their annual convention with a group of first responders.

When Osian finds a paramedic friend murdered in the middle of the crowded venue, the police immediately turn their attention to him.

They have one question on their mind.

Is he the first witness on the scene or the killer?

As the mystery unfolds, Osian has to face the trauma of his last job as a paramedic. Somewhere in those memories, a killer waits to exact revenge. They’ll have to prove Osian’s innocence and fight for their own survival when the killer puts them both in their sights.


Add to Goodreads

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Books2Read


Chapter One

Osian

“I’m Oz. He’s D. And we’ll be back for another rundown of murder and mayhem next week. Stay tuned for Osian and Danny’s London Crime Podcast.” He checked his watch, counting down a few seconds before signalling to Dannel to pause the recording. “Another one bites the dust.”

“Oz and D?”

Osian grinned over the top of his laptop at his boyfriend of fourteen years. They’d been best friends practically from infancy and started dating in their teens. “We’re hip with the kids.”

“I am not hip. I have two.” Dannel swivelled in his chair before pushing himself across their living room floor. “And thirty isn’t old age. Besides, how many teenagers are listening to true crime podcasts?”

“Let me have my dream.” Osian followed him down the hall into their bedroom. He stretched out on the bed to watch Dannel prepare for his shift. “Ready to go for twelve hours?”

Dannel glared over his shoulder; his dark brown eyes always seemed to pierce into Osian. “What do you think?”

Truthfully, Osian didn’t know for sure what Dannel thought about being a firefighter. Dannel had followed in his father’s footstep, yet he didn’t quite fit the mould. Osian worried it might come crashing down eventually.

Am I borrowing trouble from the future? Maybe it’ll all work out on its own. Although, when does it ever?

Watching Dannel comb his short black curls trimmed into a high fade before spritzing his hair with argan oil, Osian couldn’t help dragging his fingers through his own untidy brown mane. Though they had much in common, they were polar opposites in other ways. Their differences made their relationship stronger, in Osian’s opinion.

Dannel always made him think of a buffer version of Richard Ayoade. Osian had a striking resemblance to the actor Matt Ryan. He’d even cosplayed as John Constantine and Edward Kenway because of it. 

“Meeting me after shift for an early breakfast?”

“Go on, then.” Osian leaned up on his elbows for a kiss. He smiled when Dannel brushed his lips quickly, then bolted from the room. “Bye.”

Since they’d grown up together, Osian knew the ins and outs of Dannel’s personality probably better than his own family did. They’d been inseparable from the time they could toddle across the hall to each other’s homes. He’d been the first one Dannel told about his autism diagnosis. 

With Dannel gone for his shift, Osian faced the silence in their two-bedroom flat with a sense of dread. He hated the quiet. It allowed his thoughts to stray to things better left forgotten.

Rolling off the bed, he headed into the en suite to stare glumly into his own blue eyes in the mirror. He shook his head. I’m not old enough to feel so bloody tired all the time. His thoughts seemed to drain every ounce of energy out of him.

Tired and drained.

Drained and tired.

Guilt weighed him down, as though the entire Tottenham Hotspur team had climbed on his shoulders. Time heals all wounds is such bollocks. A year hadn’t brought him much relief.



Dahlia Donovan wrote her first romance series after a crazy dream about shifters and damsels in distress. She prefers irreverent humour and unconventional characters. An autistic and occasional hermit, her life wouldn’t be complete without her husband and her massive collection of books and video games.

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